"The tragedy is not that things are broken. The tragedy is that things are not mended again".
Last month we had a burglary. The thieves (or tsotsi's as we now call them) cut through our electric fence and stole Sean's motorised bicycles, tool box and some other odds and ends. It was completely opportunistic and it was clear that whoever came knew the bikes were there and came solely for these. A week later they came back to the farm and stole the gate motor. I have had some rough nights since then. Both incidents took place around 3 am and both times I was awake and alerted, although saw nothing. I think my body got into a habit of waking around the same time and this triggered an alert state in me which could only rest again when Sean woke up at 5 am. The truth is, it has been unsettling. We do not feel that our lives are in any danger and I hold to the picture I felt God give me our first night here, of an angel's wings covering our house. But still, it has been unsettling. And once again, as at many points in my life, I have had to confront it. The dreaded beast.
Fear.
Fear has been a constant companion of mine for as far back as I can remember. Like an annoying mosquito buzzing constantly in my ear, even when not very loud or forceful, I have always felt its presence. When I was young, I feared thunderstorms, I feared being poor and I feared being 'less than best'. Fear of being 'a statistic' stopped me from experimenting with ecstasy tablets and cocaine when I was in my twenties. And then came motherhood. Oh my goodness, where to begin...fears of down syndrome (I had a higher risk pregnancy), of my baby dying in utero, SIDS and so on and so on. I think the best way to sum my fears up would be to say that I feared not being in control; meaning I feared just about everything! God graciously took me on a journey and, as a new mother, I had to sit and name my fears and face them head on. I am not sure why but even saying what I feared out loud was pretty daunting. But I did. I faced these fears and made every attempt to replace fear with truth. It took time and I would like to think I came a very long way. In fact I couldn't really recall the last time fear really raised its head. Until now. Until these two recent, small, unpleasant incidents.
So why now and why these incidents?
I think for me it is not so much fear for our lives or safety but fear that there is such a vulnerability to life. I am reminded, yet again, that I am not in control. I take life for granted. Daily. I take health for granted. Daily. I take too many things for granted. Every. Single. Day. These incidents shook me and unsettled the sediment that had clearly been covering over my control issues. They exposed my fear again for what it is: the intense dislike of not being in control and, related to this, a lack of faith in God's desire or ability to protect. I wavered in my confidence over our life decisions, having to check again that we are where we feel God has called us. We would never purposefully put our lives or our boys' lives at risk. And I am grateful that when I thought things over I knew two things: Firstly, this is the journey God wants us to be on. Secondly, it was God who led us and opened the doors to us living in this house. I purposefully never pushed and never 'made things happen' in this regard. I waited, trusted and God alone opened the doors.
And then I think of the many vulnerable men, women and children in our country. Those who live in places where there is no security. And I fear for them and their safety. And my heart breaks that this beautiful land we live in is so damaged and pockmarked by fear. I fear that if I, and if we, let them then Alan Paton's words in Cry the Beloved Country will indeed ring true: "Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that's the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing. Nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob him if he gives too much.”
And then I think of the many vulnerable men, women and children in our country. Those who live in places where there is no security. And I fear for them and their safety. And my heart breaks that this beautiful land we live in is so damaged and pockmarked by fear. I fear that if I, and if we, let them then Alan Paton's words in Cry the Beloved Country will indeed ring true: "Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that's the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing. Nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob him if he gives too much.”
Then I think of the young men who (most likely) committed both crimes. The very men we desire to help through Sean's business. I think of them not with anger (although I feel angry that I should be fearful), but with something else that I can't quite describe. Perhaps it is this; I understand that maybe they have no choice. Let me explain: I was running the other day, just after the first burglary, and I started thinking: What if I was the wife of an unemployed young man? What if I was the mother of three (four?five?) kids with tummies to fill and bodies to warm? What would I expect of my husband? I would expect him to make a plan. Any plan. And perhaps that night, this is what these young men did. They made a plan. I am not saying they made the right plan. I am just saying that in my warm house, with my healthy boys, tummies full, in their warm beds I don't think I can understand the desperation that is felt by so many in every nook and cranny of our country. And I fear. I fear this. I fear for our country if something does not change. I fear that as the 'haves' we can hide behind our suburban neighbourhoods, electric fences, helplessness, pity, apathy, good intentions and do nothing while our beloved country cries itself to sleep on cold hard floors and with empty tummies.
Something has happened in the very depths of me since we left our Northern suburb Riverclub home and moved South. It is hard to put into words. I have always had a heart for social justice and had been involved in outreaches, been into Alex, helped vulnerable women and children and so on while we lived in Sandton. But I realise now that after doing 'good' I came back home into the folds of a safe cocoon where, until the next time, I could block out the sadness and injustices of this land. Since we moved South, something has shifted. I feel constantly unsettled in my very core. Something is always there and I can no longer find a cocoon in which to hide. Something is not right. It never has been. But now I know it all the time. Perhaps this is simply because this is the direction God is calling us in and what He has put on my heart. But I think, by our decisions and life choices, I have allowed God to remove the safety net and to bring to light the vulnerability that is in me and in every body else. I have forever lost an innocence that I think I once had. Only now can I see a bit more clearly for the first time. And although I don't cry physical tears, my heart cries. It cries for the widow, the orphan and the unemployed men. It cries for the single mother trying to make ends meet. It cries for the foreigner; for the men, women and children who have fled their own countries out of desperation. It cries and cries and cries. It cries for our beloved South Africa. My greatest wish is that I can turn these tears into something useful. My greatest hope can only be found in God and for this reason I cling dearly to this scripture:
Something has happened in the very depths of me since we left our Northern suburb Riverclub home and moved South. It is hard to put into words. I have always had a heart for social justice and had been involved in outreaches, been into Alex, helped vulnerable women and children and so on while we lived in Sandton. But I realise now that after doing 'good' I came back home into the folds of a safe cocoon where, until the next time, I could block out the sadness and injustices of this land. Since we moved South, something has shifted. I feel constantly unsettled in my very core. Something is always there and I can no longer find a cocoon in which to hide. Something is not right. It never has been. But now I know it all the time. Perhaps this is simply because this is the direction God is calling us in and what He has put on my heart. But I think, by our decisions and life choices, I have allowed God to remove the safety net and to bring to light the vulnerability that is in me and in every body else. I have forever lost an innocence that I think I once had. Only now can I see a bit more clearly for the first time. And although I don't cry physical tears, my heart cries. It cries for the widow, the orphan and the unemployed men. It cries for the single mother trying to make ends meet. It cries for the foreigner; for the men, women and children who have fled their own countries out of desperation. It cries and cries and cries. It cries for our beloved South Africa. My greatest wish is that I can turn these tears into something useful. My greatest hope can only be found in God and for this reason I cling dearly to this scripture:
Found on merewhispers.wordpress.com
"I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord
In the land of the living.
14 Wait for the Lord;
Be strong and let your heart take courage;
Yes, wait for the Lord." (Psalm 27:13-14 NASB)
11 August 2015
As always, I started this post a while ago and have been working on it for a good few weeks. Since the first burglary I stopped sleeping with ear plugs in (my need to be able to 'hear' what was going on through the night) and I also woke about 4 or 5 times a night, checking on the boys and checking outside. Monday 27 July was a turning point for me. I literally felt like I was wrestling for my life with the fear that had gripped me. I prayed. I quoted scripture and eventually I felt like I needed to put in my ear plugs again. This made me a bit anxious but I felt it was a practical step to saying: Okay God, you've got this. So I did. I put the ear plugs in and finally fell asleep. I have slept like a baby ever since. I am still a work in progress in this regard but do feel like I am making positive steps forward.
